Red Roses, Raindrops, and Crystalline Tears
by Ruby Youkai
Summary: It was 2:00 am when I wrote this. I THINK it MAY be a nice story. MeiLi, of course....BWAHAHAHA! I'll keep reloading this fanfic so it'll appear on the top of the list...UNTIL I GET 10 REVIEWS! MWAHAHAHAH...man, this hyperness is deadly. Please R+R!!!! Ke


**Red Roses, Raindrops, and Crystalline Tears**

_By: Ruby Moon AKA Sammie_

((A/N: OK, here's some really surreal, depressing fanfic...alright, so I'm making up excuses because it's 2:00 AM when I wrote this. I *THINK* it's good...but then again, I also thought the sheet of paper resting beside my computer was a fruit roll-up. So...my opinion isn't exactly valuable right now. hehe...please review, I KNOW I'm getting a lot of flames.

BTW: this is from Li's POV. A MEILI fic! YES! MEILI! got a problem? LOL! Lord KNOWS I need to get some sleep!))

Pain is a simplicity, a shadow that follows one wherever he or she goes. It is neither accepted nor rejected: it's just...there.

For some people, pain is more evident in their lives: the shadow that follows one is darker then most. Only light of faith and purity can pierce that dark curse.

I slowly muse over these thoughts...savoring each bitter one with some kind of will for misery. Raindrops trace wavy, uncertain patterns on the window as I stare into the refreshed, yet desolate world. Should a child who has yet seen merely a decade in life be thinking such thoughts?

Should a child such as me be obsessed with things such as magic, mystery, life, death, hate, and on the occasion, love?

It's days like these that get to me. Lazy, cold days that leave me chore-less, task-less, homework-less, and with nothing to do but dig into my thoughts.

It's not like I'm raving mad. It's not like I have memories that leave permanent scars on my young heart...but still, there are feelings that are hard to figure out, hard to look at because of a certain, bright light they shed.

I don't know how to face these thoughts. I often hear that once you face your thoughts and feelings, you start to feel 'better'. What exactly IS better? Lighthearted? Joyous? Content?

Those words carry hardly any meaning to me. Disciplined, Strict, those words do. So, how do I face these little shadows known as 'thoughts'.

The cold, smooth glass feels cool against my cheek as I lean against the window, staring out at the lush rose garden. I see a movement.

A girl of raven-black hair and ruby-red eyes. A girl of fire and spirit and spunk slowly reaches down and plucks a rose petal from the masses of it's crimson-red kin. I can vaguely see her examine the soft piece of nature resting in her palm, oblivious to the rain and cold, harsh wind.

Part of me laughs in a bit of scorn towards the spirited yet foolish girl. Can't she tell that she could easily get sick? Who, in their right mind, would want to stand out in this COLD, on one's own will?

Strangely enough I feel the strongest desire to follow in her footsteps. Another part of me, the part I'm constantly pushing back and ignoring, admires her for following what she wants to do, without any regard for the foolishness it might condemn to her.

Admires her clear, ruby-red eyes and hair of midnight-black, seemingly spun from ebony silk.

Admires her unabashed and unashamed fiery spirit. Admires her unique mixture of harsh, unrelenting scorn and almost intolerable arrogance...and yet, and yet her strangely comforting way of showing love, her ability to challenge one to higher levels of uniqueness and better persona. Her determination, her way of leading, guiding, tending to people in such a way that she makes them grow in all aspects of life.

She stirs, bending over and gently twisting the rose from the bush. My breath quickens as she holds it close to her chest...

Precious. As long as I've known her, she felt a certain kind of...respect, adoration towards nature itself. Maybe that was because nature could give her what anyone, even I, couldn't....wouldn't. Nature freely gave her what many others refused.

Beauty, acceptance, contented peace. She was always free too sit back and enjoy the sunset, always accepted into the lush gardens and forests without a second thought. On more then one occasion I've seen her, in the midst of her tears and trials, run out to somewhere where she could be alone. And in her little sanctuary I've found her, breathing deeply, lying in a soft bed of grass...and her worries would escape as the sweet song of nature would lull her to a contented sleep.

So, I supposed, the icy wind, cold rain, and soft rose petals felt good to her. Made her feel welcome...peaceful.

How I envy her ability to see the beauty in something so...so frustratingly simple!

I sigh wearily. Can one see beauty in simplicity when living day-to-day with a girl of such beauty and spirit to outshine even the most brilliant sunsets? I guess not.

I furrow my brow in confusion.

If I felt this way, adored her in such a manner that even the most brilliant sunsets were dulled to me when she was around...why was I still faced with these damned shadows? these messengers of mocking humiliation?

Why did I force myself through this, this turmoil of anguishing longing as day by tiresome day went by and I still listened to the side of me that proclaimed and screamed out all the little imperfections, the wrong, the harsh, the flaws of people, places, projects. The dark and bad side of everyone, even HER! why did I have to listen to that side of me that always wanted to wallow in some disgusting pit of depression and scorn?

Some questions are not meant to be answered. Not now, and sometimes, I think, not ever.

Once again, her tears come, spilling forth in a sudden rush of emotion. I know she is thinking about me, about her love for me....her love that is slowly being dwindled away because it is freely given, but hardly ever returned. How I long to rush out there and for once, proclaim and be proud of the love for her that rests in my heart.

But still that VOICE, that SIDE of me, that god-damned hypocrite and fault-finder I'm constantly giving up my freedom to. He speaks, I listen. He laughs scornfully at the very idea, I shut my mouth. He snickers sarcastically at the very notion of love...so I just sit here and force myself to be content with sharing her misery from far away.

She's soaked now. The rain has pierced her clothing, ridiculously light and short for the cold weather. Her hair sticks to her face, now undone from the normal buns on both sides of her head. She looks...lost...sickeningly sweet and childish...but yet overcome by some seductively natural beauty that makes me long for her, both emotionally and physically. I quickly shake my head at such thoughts. Defiantly no normal thoughts for an 11-year-old boy.

Sighing, I get up from my now-warm chair. I take a towel and umbrella and head towards her.

Despite whatever clarity of mind and joy and sorrow it brings me to watch her, I can't let her freeze to death.

The cold wind teases my hair. I open the umbrella and quickly walk over to her, splashing myself as a trod through a few puddles.

She looks slightly startled as I hold the umbrella over her and quickly wrap her in the towel. My very soul is stunned when she looks at me with those pained, fiery ruby-red eyes of hers. I sense her hopes slightly rising, but like me, she tears them down before she could spread her wings and fly on their strong currents. Like me, part of her yearns for the freedom of accepting her hopes and emotions...but part of her dares not take the risk, for fear of ending up with a broken wing and broken heart.

I long to see her happy, to see her soar through the dazzling blue sky known as love and joy. But I can't bring myself to set her free.

By accepting her into my heart I set her free.

The very notion portrays a perfection that seemed destined, meant to be. I stare, unspeaking into her eyes as these thoughts run through my head. Complexity reigns in our lives, and fear controls our actions.

I snap out of my trance, and wordlessly head back into the apartment complex. She follows me...and stares at me in that adoring, loving, yet heartbroken way of hers.

Someday....

Someday I'll find the courage. I'll break these bonds and find the courage to tell her what is inside my heart and soul.

For nothing is more lovely then a rose held in a delicate hand...

Nothing is more sweet then raindrops on the face of a raven-haired beauty...

and nothing is more heart-wrenchingly beautiful then her crystalline tears, shed because of a complex yet simple love.


End file.
